Fatebinder’s Edict of Nightfall

Fatebinder’s Edict of Nightfall is a random encounter in Tales from the Tiers.

Transcript
The veil of darkness over the region manifested as a hazy smudge on the horizon long before you reached it, not unlike a distant heavy rain of a gray so deep it verged on black. As you closed that distance, the Edict of Nightfall seemed more like a wall of midnight set into the Tiers by your voice. Passing into the darkness is like stepping directly into the dead of night. No light seeps in from the road behind you. The sun, visible above as a dull, pale circle in the sky, gives no heat, and even the ever-still moon Terratus Grave provides no comforting pale illumination. The stars are but flat, white spots on the dark dome of the sky, as utterly lifeless as a fresco. You have never before known the Blade Grave to be an area of such utter stillness. Whereas the winds had once been wild and constant, now nothing seems to move, and all energy is sapped from the air as surely as the light. In the darkness you can only just make out jutting spines of iron and bronze, making the whole of the region a treacherous journey through a nightmare of rusting, jagged blades. The verdant hills and fields of Haven seem dull and flat beneath the oppressing nocturnal weight, and even the night bugs seem unwilling to brave it. Either the rivers have slowed to a near halt, or the darkness swallows the sound of their motion. Long choked by the smoke from the ever-aflame ruins of the Vellum Citadel, the Contested Lands are no stranger to darkness, yet this is entirely other. The fires of the Burning Library and Kyros' Edict had previously provided a baleful orange glow. Now even your torches seem muted, their warmth and light swallowed by the mystical night called by your tongue. Whereas once the lands of the Stone Sea seemed ever-shifting, a stark stillness has fallen across the region. Even the pale violet illumination of the Azurelith crystals that jut from the soil seems muted to a dim purple. The once-constant landmarks of Vendrien's Well hide in impenetrable shadow, the mountainous border and the height of your Spire stronghold lost to the gloom. No insects sing or night birds cry. Figures step out onto the road ahead of you, little more than silhouettes against a deeper dark. They wear cloth masks over their mouth and hair, but you doubt you could have identified their features anyway. No light glints from their blades, but you can feel the weapons' presence. "Your money or your life, traveler!" growls a low voice. "Never heard that one before," Verse states dryly from somewhere to your right. Attack them. Threaten them. Freeze them. Have Kills-in-Shadow kill them in shadow. Vanish into the shadows. These bandits have enjoyed the dark shroud of your Edict, but they are visitors to this magical darkness - and the shadows greedily surround you as you take a half step backwards. Their startled curses turn into muffled thumps as they collide in shared eagerness to catch you. With the sounds of their failed ambush to trailing off into the darkness, you continue your journey. They never stood a chance. Within moments, you have opened the brigands, leaving sputtering, screaming men and women curled or shuddering in shallow pools of their own blood. The darkness hampered their actions far more than yours: this is your night, and you are a part of it. You leave the remains on the road and continue towards your destination. They manage only whimpered apologies as they flee the road, their muffled footsteps quickly absorbed into the deathly silence of your Edict. You heft your gear and continue on your journey. The sigil of Frost that forms from your fingers casts a wan light over the masks of your ambushers, the pale blue light glinting in their widening eyes. The darkness of the Edict seems to empower the spell, flowing through you and into a gale of cold air that explodes from your hands. In its wake the magic leaves only a handful of corpses, each frozen solid where they stood. You move past them and continue towards your destination. You speak only her name, and Kills-in-Shadow erupts from the darkness behind your ambushers. The endless night seems to muffle their screams as the Beastwoman rends flesh and snaps bone. It's over in moments, leaving only broken bodies in shallow pools of blood. Kills-in-Shadow wipes gore from her muzzle with the back of her hand. You scratch her neck and continue on your journey. You shake your head at the incompetence of these lawbreakers. Do they not recognize you? Do they not realize that this darkness is YOURS? You are the Archon of the Mountain Spire, and they are but cloying insects to be crushed. Continue... Continue... Continue... Continue... The veil of darkness over the region manifested as a hazy smudge on the horizon long before you reached it, not unlike a distant heavy rain of a gray so deep it verged on black. As you closed that distance, the Edict of Nightfall seemed more like a wall of midnight set into the Tiers by your voice. Continue... Passing into the darkness is like stepping directly into the dead of night. No light seeps in from the road behind you. The sun, visible above as a dull, pale circle in the sky, gives no heat, and even the ever-still moon Terratus Grave provides no comforting pale illumination. The stars are but flat, white spots on the dark dome of the sky, as utterly lifeless as a fresco. Continue... The veil of darkness over the region manifested as a hazy smudge on the horizon long before you reached it, not unlike a distant heavy rain of a gray so deep it verged on black. As you closed that distance, the Edict of Nightfall seemed more like a wall of midnight set into the Tiers by your voice. Continue... Passing into the darkness is like stepping directly into the dead of night. No light seeps in from the road behind you. The sun, visible above as a dull, pale circle in the sky, gives no heat, and even the ever-still moon Terratus Grave provides no comforting pale illumination. The stars are but flat, white spots on the dark dome of the sky, as utterly lifeless as a fresco. Continue... The veil of darkness over the region manifested as a hazy smudge on the horizon long before you reached it, not unlike a distant heavy rain of a gray so deep it verged on black. As you closed that distance, the Edict of Nightfall seemed more like a wall of midnight set into the Tiers by your voice. Continue... Passing into the darkness is like stepping directly into the dead of night. No light seeps in from the road behind you. The sun, visible above as a dull, pale circle in the sky, gives no heat, and even the ever-still moon Terratus Grave provides no comforting pale illumination. The stars are but flat, white spots on the dark dome of the sky, as utterly lifeless as a fresco. Continue... The veil of darkness over the region manifested as a hazy smudge on the horizon long before you reached it, not unlike a distant heavy rain of a gray so deep it verged on black. As you closed that distance, the Edict of Nightfall seemed more like a wall of midnight set into the Tiers by your voice. Continue... Passing into the darkness is like stepping directly into the dead of night. No light seeps in from the road behind you. The sun, visible above as a dull, pale circle in the sky, gives no heat, and even the ever-still moon Terratus Grave provides no comforting pale illumination. The stars are but flat, white spots on the dark dome of the sky, as utterly lifeless as a fresco. Continue... Figures step out onto the road ahead of you, little more than silhouettes against a deeper dark. They wear cloth masks over their mouth and hair, but you doubt you could have identified their features anyway. No light glints from their blades, but you can feel the weapons' presence. "Your money or your life, traveler!" growls a low voice. Continue...